


A Dark Companion ~Frerard

by TheyCallMeAngel



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Demon!gerard - Freeform, Evil Gerard, Frerard, M/M, MCR AU, Stabbing, frank iero - Freeform, gee, gerard way - Freeform, idek, middleages, shoemaker!frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyCallMeAngel/pseuds/TheyCallMeAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a shoemaker, it's the middleages and Frank has an unusual... friend?</p><p>Frerard middleages!au</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dark Companion ~Frerard

**Author's Note:**

> For my Dutch class I had to write a short story about a medieval profession. I had a sort-of shoemaker's assistant. I translated it into English and changed it a bit (still weird shit tho)
> 
> I'm also gonna rewrite this so it fits around Welcome to the Black Parade, I'll upload that too

It was a cold winter night. It was still dark, the night was still at least an hour away from the yellow and red glow of the morning. Snow shimmered on the cold pebbled road. The main road of the village, the road that led to the village square. Actually, it was the only real road of the village. The other ‘roads’ of the village were wet and muddy and packed with snow, although at that time, that probably would have been better, better than the unbelievable slipperiness of the glazed frost mixed with trampled snow on that one pebbled road. Moonlight shone on that one pebbled road, which reflected in the glazed frost. Hereby it sometimes was hard to see anything, but it was better than no moonlight at all. Without the moonlight, the road only would’ve been lit by the weak, dimmed candlelight from the small pubs next to that one pebbled road. Even in the early morning, there still were some people in the pubs. Those candles from the pubs gave everything and everyone ominous shadows. The road, the kegs full of beer in front of the pub, the small bushes on the side of the road… everything looked ominous, dark and outright demonic. 

Two people were on that road on that cold winter morning. It was still so early. They didn’t walk really fast. A man, and another dark figure that seemed like a male. The strange thing, however, was that only one of them was visible. The dark figure. The dark figure was invisible. The man, who was named Frank by his father and his mother, called the dark figure “Gerard”. He didn’t know exactly what or who Gerard was, with his short, bright red locks that made him look so hot and that made him be able to do incredible sexy hair flips. He wasn’t that tall, but anyone was taller than Frank. He was around 10 cm taller than Frank. 

He didn’t know for sure how long, but Gerard had already been with Frank for a long time. He helped Frank with his job as a shoemaker, he helped Frank with his life, with getting by from the small amount of money he earned as a shoemaker, and he helped with so much more. Frank didn’t have a wife, but Gerard was the closest thing to a life partner. But the big question was: had Frank made Gerard up? Was he real? Or the worst thought: was he a servant of the devil? That could be the case. It could be a devilish monstrosity using a red-haired gorgeous boy with a black cape that gave a clear contrast in the snow as vessel. 

Frank didn’t look back at Gerard. He just knew that he was there. He always was somewhere. Even if Frank thought he’d finally disappeared, Frank knew in the back of his head that Gerard was somewhere, even if he was just around the corner of the pub or just hidden in the dark where the candlelight couldn’t properly cast out the darkness.

Frank was almost at the village square. That’s where his shop was. He worked as a shoemaker. He looked at his hands. The small puncture wounds from the day before were still visible. That tool was so sharp! Well, if the tool weren’t that sharp, it wouldn’t be able to make good holes in the leather.

“Frankie?” There he was. Gerard. He was behind him, just one step from kicking Frank’s heels. Although Frank was smaller than Gerard, Frank could hear his voice in his ear loud and clear. Frank didn’t even look up. It had ruined my life – one word about Gerard and Frank would be on the stake – but he had already lived so long with it…

“Don’t ignore me Frankie. One word, and the pain in your hands, the dried blood, every single bad thing, I could make it all disappear.” Of course he knew this. He knew this. Frank knew this. But Frank had succumbed to it before. To Gerard. In more than one way, if you know what I mean. But he had done that before, and the consequences were terrible. The things Gerard made him do.

“Oh don’t you ignore me Frankie-boy. One word, one word, and your shoes for today will be done. One word, and the money pours in. One word, and your life would be a tad better again. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want that Frankie? Don’t you want me?” Frank ran his hands through his hair. It was way too early for this. He should’ve gone for a quick pint at the pub. Now it was too late, he was already past the pubs. Now he was sober, and he didn’t know how long he could deal with Gerard today.

“Do not ignore me Frank Anthony Iero! You have ignored me for too long! One word. ONE word and you could make the best shoes, you could do the best craftsmanship one has ever seen with that beautiful tool of you – the tool I have gotten you, for the lord’s sake. I could send the most powerful people to you!”

“Oh shut up, Devil’s Spawn!” Frank, again, ran his hands through his hair. This happened almost every morning. Almost every morning. Every single morning. 

Frank sank down on the pebbled road, his hands hiding in the snow. See, this too hid the pain Gerard had caused Frank by making Frank stab himself with his too. His beautiful, sharp, big tool. So sharp, so pointy. Unbreakable. Apart from his soul, his most valuable possession. Well, his soul was fucked and he was going to hell, but he still had a soul. But it felt as if he could feel his soul sipping away from him with every day. Could he deal with this? Could he keep himself from the pyre? Could he control Gerard? Could Frank ignore Gerard’s anger, the anger that flowed though Frank’s veins because Gerard had pumped that anger into Frank because he ignored him? That big pile of bodies in the back of the shop where holes where smashed into by that one tool, that pile that Gerard made Frank create, could Frank control it?


End file.
